


Not the Song You Were Expecting

by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Blood, Blood Drinking, Coping, F/F, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rekindling of feelings, Stubborn Brendon Urie, Stubborn Ryan Ross, Survival, They're just stubborn, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/wellthisisprettyrisque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about the look in Ryan's eyes that is almost as broken as the world around him. It's been three years since the Vampiric outbreak, three years since everyone fell to the bloodlust. The human race is utterly decimated and the vampires are now starving, dying in the streets. Ryan watches them with the apathy of a monster barely above the vamps.</p><p>There's a new breed, something beautiful and terrifying, but Ryan doesn't care enough to learn about it, whatever the hell it is. He just stares out the window, and watches vampires die and prays he doesn't recognize any of them as people who used to be part of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Song You Were Expecting

**Author's Note:**

> This has nothing to do with "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More Touch Me." Like, nothing at all. William Beckett isn't even in this (though holy shit that'd be cute but William's too good for this). This is a vampire universe of my own creation and it's not pretty. There's plenty of talk of suicide and there's plenty of awful feelings and stress and broken hearts and broken heads, just a little.
> 
> It's a lot of fun for me to write.
> 
> I hope you like it.

The streets were overgrown and cracked, potholes making automotive transportation one of the most meaningless and troublesome methods of escape, so no one relied on vehicles anymore. It was too loud and the holes in the asphalt slowed down the vehicles so horribly that you couldn't get anywhere any faster than if you were on foot. No one used cars anyways because gasoline was nearly impossible to come by and was always used for lamps and grills and the true necessities-- warmth and survival. No one would ever dare to waste gasoline on a stupid, useless car. Not when there was nowhere safe to even run to.  

Though it wasn't like what was left of the city was a desirable place to be. Most buildings were crumbling, their foundations having been brutalized and weakened by the panicked bombing of the government. No one was even positive it had been the government's doing; it could have just as easily been enacted by the local drug lords, desperate to keep their kingdoms alive. 

The worst was the sky. The monsters that outnumbered the remaining human population four to one were doing everything they could to pollute the sky and block out the sun. The undead no longer needed to breath so their concerns for oxygen and carbon buildup were zero. Most of the remaining humans were held in isolated captivity, forced to breed and feed, kept alive by the skin of their teeth, conditions just good enough to keep their hearts pumping. 

A few humans resisted capture and containment and considered themselves nomadic, for the most part. It was dangerous to stay in one place. The undead could easily discover more permanent fixtures of precious survival than the pointless and hopeless wandering a few humans that were as good as dead already. The undead had a bi of trouble tracking nomads because for all the efforts, the sun continued to shine like it had for eons, and hunting was cut short when a few rays escaped. That was also when the humans would escape to safer distances, lay low and not eat for days at a time just to stay alive. It wasn't the easiest or most desirable way to live, but most humans preferred the substantial safety of constant movement to the primal fear and anxiety of remaining in one place. 

Ryan Ross was not one of those humans.

. . .

"There's more of them," Dan said quietly as he parted the shabby blinds with two fingers. "Lots more. At least a dozen, all running around outside." He scowled and leaned back from the window, letting the blinds fall shut. "Animals," he bit out through grit teeth. 

"Bit more than that," Zoe cut in, looking almost bored as she cleaned her glock .7. She glanced up and narrowed her eyes at Ryan, but didn't comment. Ryan had caught her glare and knew what it meant, so she had no reason to waist her breath. 

Ryan blew out a small pillow of smoke and watched it lazily float away from him, adding more smoke to the toxic air. "I'm not going to stop," he told her quietly.

"You should," she spat, slamming down the muzzle too harshly. "You know what it does to you. Lowers your defenses and shit, fucks up your lungs. It's already hard enough to breath out there, you only make it worse by smoking those fucking blunts. Plus it makes your blood, like, a hundred times more intoxicating to them. They're gonna suck you dry one of these days just because you got high and couldn't run fast enough."

Ryan took in another long drag, without a care in the world. "You used to get high all the time," he reminded her softly, watching the puff of smoke. 

She scowled. "Yeah, before the world went to hell! Back when it was safe to not give a shit, when letting your guard down wasn't specifically associated with fucking dying. It was a different world back then, Ry, and now that habit is fucking suicidal at best."

"We talk about this at least once a day," he sighed. "Argue, more like. And you still haven't changed my mind. So why not give up already?"

"Because I don't want to lose you too," she spat. "Don't you think there are few enough of us as it is? Now you're tempting the fates like you don't care whether you live or die and it's pissing me off!"

"Give up, Zoe," Dan cut in with a heavy sigh and a scathing glance in Ryan's direction. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Ryan watched him like a predator, eyes gleaming as he took in more evidence for his crazed assumptions. "He's not gonna do what you say," Dan continued, eyes soft as he met Zoe's. They shared a silent conversation Ryan knew he would never be welcomed in and Zoe slumped. 

"Fine," she muttered before standing and leaving the room in a huff. Ryan wasn't surprised when Dan followed after he without so much of a glance in his direction. Ryan looked at the blinds and pretended he could see past them, pretended he saw the bustling life of LA that no longer existed. He pretended he could hear cars stalling and engines turning over, horns blaring and people blaring back. He pretended there was bright sunlight and sweltering heat and birds flying high. 

He pretended he saw Brendon, laughing and riding his skateboard through the streets. 

“There’s something waiting in the stratosphere,” he mumbled to himself, looking to the sky and trying to remember what it looked like, then he remembered you could see the stars in LA to begin with. 

Brendon had always burned bright than the stars. He remembered holding Brendon to his chest, whispering the names of the constellations they couldn’t see. Brendon had laughed softly, angelically, and kissed Ryan’s skin.

Ryan took another drag and tried to forget that last little detail.  
. . .

It was disturbing how Ryan loved being outside after the death of all things more than he had before. And Ryan had always loved being outside and going to the beach, but there was something so tragically beautiful about the world after everything had been blown to ruins that made Ryan love being outside when the sun was strong enough to make it safe enough for him to actually venture outside. His love for the destruction and desolation was morbid, but he didn't care enough to analyze what it truly meant to his subconscious. Freud could suck his dick. All he cared about was the blunt in his hand as he strolled too casually outside. 

Marijuana was the only drug he could get these days. It had taken awhile for him and Dan and Zoe to detox from their usual of addiction of cocaine, but there was nothing like adrenaline and the struggle to survive when it came to rehabilitation from their addictions. Ryan couldn't forget the high, though. He'd always been different from his friends; he'd always been running from something in his mind. Ryan got high to run and hide while his friends just did it for the feeling of flying. So Ryan couldn't let it all go entirely. He still had something to run from. That's what Dan and Zoe didn't understand. They didn't understand that stopping would be the death of his mind, and then his body. Because a barely-there addiction to cannabis and the high it gave was less deadly than an addiction to endless guilt and crippling regret.  

Something clattered and crashed down an alley way to his left and behind. Ryan knew he should be worried, should be put off by the decaying buildings and the likelihood of something or someone friendly making the noise. Ryan knew he should either investigate or run. 

But he kinda didn't give much of a shit either way, live or die. He took another drag and turned around lazily, watching halfheartedly for movement and not forming an idea of what he should do, should it be an enemy or a threat. Apathy was a side effect from the cannabis he fully embraced and endorsed. The world could do with a little less fucks to give and a plague of ennui. 

Something shot out from the alley way, the blob a dark black and indiscernible shape that slammed against the crumbling brick building across the road. Ryan flinched but didn't run. He took anther drag and watched. 

The dark blob became a humanoid figure. It stood and stumbled and Ryan could make out the burned and charred body of a girl. She was trembling on her feet and naked but everything was mostly burned away. The poor person cried out. Ryan approached her, getting too close, and could make out pearly white fangs from three yards away. A dying vampire. He smiled sardonically and felt a surge of satisfaction in his veins as he watched the parasite suffer.

Then she lifted her head and spotted Ryan. He swore his heart should have stopped, but nothing really happened in his head. He registered she'd seen him. He'd deal with it later. 

She screeched and lunged for him, skin falling off in revolting chunks as her feet slapped against the asphalt, exposed bones scraping on the rubble. Ryan flinched but still didn't run. He wasn't sure why. Ryan just knew he felt something close to cynical and laughable pity for this dying creature. Many of them had taken to this; blood was hard to come by and you couldn't feed off many of the other undead. So the vamps had a choice-- starve to death or commit suicide the best they could. Most would attack stronger vampires and hope their fellow kin would tear them apart. But others would stand in the sun and burn. Ryan always got a sick sort of satisfaction from watching them burn. He'd look through the blinds and watch vampires kill themselves slowly a few times a week and it was always a good day for him when he got to see it happen.

Except this one. 

Because she was only a few feet from Ryan, and he couldn't run without catching his foot on some piece of broken ground or another. Still, he'd survived this long for a reason. 

He pulled the weapon from the back of his pants and swung. The branded and carved cleaver sliced through the creatures face, but it didn't kill her. Ryan stepped aside, waited for the monster to fall past him, and sent the knife into the spine, severing and splitting the column. The monster shrieked and fell to the ground, practically immobile. Ryan stepped to its side, kicked the suffering thing onto its back and shoved the knife into its dead heart. Easy death and not a scratch on him. 

"Never let it be said that you don't know what you're doing."

Ryan didn't even bother turning around. He knew it was Dan. Ryan took a long drag of his joint and didn't turn around. "Better than both of you," he shot back. "Maybe Zoe will stop pestering me if she saw. Think you could help me reenact that? Just jump at me and try to kill me and I'll stab you in the heart."

Dan appeared at Ryan's side with a small smirk. "I love you, Ry," he said. "But not enough to die for you."

Ryan tried not to be hurt because he knew this. "Why are you out here?" he asked instead, cleaning the blade on the flesh on his sleeve. His jacket was too small for the muscle that had formed on his arms from forcing knives into humanoid bodies. The blades themselves were all very special, religious sigils and symbols carved into the wooden handles and blades. Catholic and Jewish words and markings that said things he didn't understand. No one knew why faith in a God killed the vampires, they just knew it worked. 

"I'm out here because you are," Dan replied simply. "Zoe is confessing. I figured you could use a set of eyes since yours are too red to see much."

"I'm able to take care of myself," Ryan replied sharply. "Go back to your girlfriend. If I don't come back, you know what happened and you're apparently better off." He took another drag and fought the urge to stomp out the blunt, knowing that he was lucky to be able to still grow the shit with limited drinking water and sunlight. It would be a shame to waste it. 

"Ryan," Dan sighed, sounding very tired of Ryan's shit. And that made two of them. 

"Fuck off," Ryan spat before turning and walking down the street at a leisurely pace. Dan didn't follow him and that was enough for Ryan. He let out a long breath of smoked and looked at the buildings with their faded advertisements for food and blown out neon signs. He remembered watching a woman jogging with her dog one sunny Sunday morning. He remembered drinking coffee as he walked as the sun had been rising and he remembered heading to the beach way too early. He remembered walking on the sand until he saw a familiar head of coiffed hair and a boisterous smile. 

He remembered turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction, heading home and not leaving for two days. 

Ryan took another drag and tried to forget that last bit.  

. . .

"I don't want you guys to follow me," Ryan said firmly to the two in what used to be a living room. "I don't care that it's dark. I don't care if it's when they're crazy and out and about. And I don't care that they'll be able to smell me because they're fucking starving. I really don't care."

Zoe was scowling and Dan just looked tired. 

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" The girl demanded. "Because you're really fucking acting like you're trying to kill yourself. And I'm tired of it. You won't tell us what's wrong, you won't tell us why you still insist on being a fucking useless stoner, and you still won't even tell us where you go. What if you do die, Ryan? What if you die out there? What are we supposed to do, because we are not coming after you."

"I wonder how many will be out there?" Ryan wondered aloud, not paying her any attention. 

"Fine," she snapped, throwing her hands in the air and turning away. "I don't know why you want to die so much and so fucking stupidly, Ryan, but I don't care anymore. I really don't care. You obviously don't care enough to tell us what the fuck is going on in your head, but I'm done caring."

Ryan smirked hollowly. "Good. Maybe then we'll both get some peace and quiet."

She turned on her heal and left the room. 

Dan was left standing where he'd been, leaning against the wall and keeping quiet for a moment longer. "... What's eating you, Ry?" he finally asked softly. He'd always been there for Ryan more than Zoe had. 

Ryan shrugged. "Just coping," he lied. "Like you. Don't worry about it, okay? I'm going outside and I'll be fine."

"Are you high right now?"

Ryan smirked again. "When am I not high?" he shot back. Dan sighed. 

"Come back, Ry," he said instead of chiding him. "Because Zoe may not, but I will come looking for you. And I don't want to die out there like you do."

Ryan nodded. "I'll come back," he promised softly. 

He also promised himself to forget the promise should he have to. Because he didn't want to live for anyone anymore and he was going to keep it that way. 

Dan rested a hand on Ryan's shoulder for a second and said, "see you in a few hours," as if he was reminding Ryan he was required to to come back and keep the informal appointment. 

. . .

Acid rain was falling hard and Ryan grimaced against the taste on his tongue, knowing he'd have to use a lot of water to get the grime from his hair.  There was nothing worse than the smell of pollution falling from the sky, dangerous chemicals contaminating everything, even the clouds above. He could probably write something tragically poetic from this, but lyrics and music didn't hold much appeal anymore now that it would undoubtably get them killed. It was the one area of survival Ryan didn't ignore, because he would kill more people than just himself. 

He ducked under a piece of fallen rubble and crouched low, not wanting to melt his shoes again because the right size was difficult to scavenge these days and nothing was worse than running for your life in a pair of shoes that were either too big or too small. They left blisters for days if you were lucky enough to make it.

Ryan looked out across the wasted streets and sighed sullenly. He'd wanted to just walk around for a few hours in the dark and just breath, even if the air was as toxic as the larger cities in China on their worst days. It sucked that Ryan couldn't just wander aimlessly anymore. He would never walk any further than three miles from the apartment hideaway. It wasn't worth getting lost out here, even if the city was still LA. Everything looked different now and road signs were faded or completely destroyed. You could get lost in a heartbeat if you weren't careful enough, and Ryan was keen on dying like that. 

An old record store caught his eye and Ryan sighed. He remembered purchasing quite a collection from that store alone. It had stocked a plethora of Beatles vinyl records and Ryan couldn't even estimate how much money he gave that store. Then Ryan remembered that was also where he'd seen his first physical copy of Too Weird to Live. He remembered just staring at the album, unsure of what to do. Then a song from the album (that Ryan later identified as Nicotine) played over the speakers and Ryan hadn't been able to leave the store fast enough. 

Ryan's chest tightened painfully and he forgot how to breath as he remembered. He quickly climbed out from underneath the rubble and moved away from the decrepit record store as quickly as he could while still remaining silent. The further he got, the easier it was to breath. 

His fingers itched for a blunt, his lungs ached for the drag, and his mind yearned to forget in a haze of lethargy.   

Ryan kept moving at a brisk pace, climbing higher stacks of rubble with practiced ease. Everything was quiet until he reached the old cinema, the neon sign burst and still leaking neon onto the street. At first, all Ryan had seen were odd shapes in the windows he'd originally assumed were curtains. Old, worn white curtains, torn into strips of fabric. Except, as he got closer, he saw that they were not shredded curtains. They were bodies. 

Ryan stopped in his tracks and stared at the pale corpses that hung from what could be hooks. He couldn't tell if they'd been human or not, but he assumed that they had been. Vampires were known to keep some bodies around if there was still blood inside them, especially now that blood was running rare. But they usually only kept one or two bodies to avoid survival confrontation with other vamps. 

Looking in the all windows, Ryan counted at least seventeen. 

Abnormality of this collection aside, Ryan was shocked that this vamp had been able to find seventeen humans at all. Groups hardly went over single digits these days because more numbers meant more noise and no amount of companionship was worth the risk. So either some group of humans were really stupid, or this vampire was really dangerous. Either way, Ryan wanted nothing more than to turn around and get the fuck out of there. 

Glass shattered right behind and above him, Ryan knew it had been one of the cinema windows. 

He no longer hesitated and ran for his life. He could hear footsteps following close behind and whoever or whatever it was gained on him too quickly. Ryan had never been one to see his life behind his eyes when scraping this close to death, but Jesus Christ, did he have a fair share of regrets to mull over. 

Something swiped at his calf and sent a searing pain up his leg, but Ryan didn't even falter. Because up ahead he could see where a break in the pollution had created a pillar of light that would be just enough to ward away anything that could be chasing him and draining those bodies. Ryan sprinted as fast as he could to the light. His heart was hammering in his chest from panic and he felt like he couldn't breath, but he kept fucking going because no way was he going to end up like those corpses swinging on the window. 

Ryan jumped off a piece of rubble and fell into the light gracelessly. His shoulder hit the ground hard but he couldn't feel it. He fell on his back and looked up, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of what was chasing him. 

What he saw was the most beautiful boy he'd ever laid eyes on. 

The boy had golden, sparkling hair. His eyes were a swimming sea of pale blue and his skin was as fair and clear as porcelain. The boy smiled cruelly down at Ryan before fluttering his fingers. "I'll have to find you later, sweetie. You smell absolutely amazing," the beautiful monster hummed before turning on his heel and literally sauntering away. 

Ryan didn't know what to do.

He lied in the light a little while longer before he felt it was safe enough to make a dead sprint for home. 

. . .

There has always been rumors of vampires that were just a but more different from the rest. 

When turned into the undead, you generally became a bit more ethereal than usual because you had to have an attractive outward appearance to lure in and trap your prey. It became hard to get close enough to a major vein to drink if you were ugly as fuck. There had to be a physical appeal to get that close to your victims. 

But Zoe sometimes talked about this rumored "beautiful" vampire strain. They were always men and Zoe had been pissed over the sexist possibilities until Dan had suggested maybe female vampiric strains were already noticeably beautiful. Ryan has scoffed at the fact that Zoe was worried about fucking sexism during the apocalypse-- sexism and racial arguments seemed a moot point when the world was ending. Still, it raised quite a few questions. 

Dan liked to call them the Ichnan. Ryan didn't know what language that was or what it meant, but it sounded better the "the beautiful ones." The Ichnan were able to last longer in the daylight, even survive in it, but it still seemed to burn and weaken them, so sunlight was regularly avoided. They also had an unprecedented ability to rally and control normal vampires. Then they also had this weird seduction thing? Ryan wasn't sure, all he knew was that he had watched an Ichnan convince a man to shoot his daughter in the head, and then himself. Ryan wasn't truly scared of many things anymore, but the Ichnan were an exception. No one knew how to kill the Ichnan. A blessed blade to the heart didn't kill them, only slowed them down. Holy water made them laugh and a cross left the barest of marks and disappeared from their skin seconds later. 

Ryan knew he couldn't win in a fight against the Ichnan and it both terrified and pissed him off. 

. . .

"The cinema?" Zoe asked with a skeptical brow raised. "On Lambeth? You saw a Beautiful One there?"

Dan winced behind her at the name as Ryan cringed. It just didn't seem right to call these monsters something as positive as beautiful. Ryan liked Ichnan and he was going to stick with it. "Yeah," he replied once he'd gotten over the name. "I saw bodies in the windows and then it came after me."  

"Did it say anything?" Dan asked, expression giving away his curiosity. He'd never met an Ichnan (none of them had, really). Ryan didn't blame him for being a bit morbidly obsessed over this. 

Ryan shrugged. "Just that he'd find me later and that I smell nice."

Zoe scoffed. "That's bull, you know you smell like shit."

"You don't smell any better," Ryan shot back. "And you know what he meant."

"I do," she said with a scowl. "And it only makes me wonder why you keep smoking that shit! The drugs make your blood taste better to them, it puts them in a frenzy whenever you're close! It's stupid and dangerous and I don't understand why you keep doing this if it's only going to get you killed!"

"Because I have a lot more shit that I need to forget!" Ryan suddenly snapped, inwardly very surprised with himself for actually giving Zoe's words the time of day. 

Zoe was stunned into silence, but only for a moment. "He's more than likely dead, Ryan," she reminded him softly. "Dead or one of those things. It does you no good to suffer over the guy who hurt you if he got what he deserved."

"No one deserves this," he shot back. "And fuck you for telling me how to live this life. You think you're doing so much better than me when you've become an agoraphobic control freak who can't set a foot outside! You're just as addicted as me, just to something else!"

She slapped him across the cheek and Ryan wasn't surprised. 

Zoe kept yelling and kept fighting him, but Ryan tuned out her voice and all other sound. He pushed past her, fought her grip when she grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise, and went into the next room, the room with the windows. He checked the plants struggling to grow and reached for the box of rolling papers, rolling a joint. Zoe and Dan had collected food and water when the world started falling apart. Ryan had collected paraphernalia and lighters. There wasn't much point to living if he could enjoy it. 

Ryan lit the joint and held it between his middle and pointer fingers, taking a long drag and looking through the blinds. 

“There’s something waiting in the stratosphere,” he mumbled.

He stared up at the sky and remembered long bus rides across the country, across the world, blues skies and rainy days, wind and thunder. He remember Spencer and the music, laughing and feeling high on life as their dream came true. He remembered Pete telling him that be was a star and an artist, meant for great things like changing the world. He remembered long nights, some spent lying awake and scribbling down the words that spun in his head like hornets. 

He remembered the other nights, where he'd lie in Brendon's bunk, take advantage of the dark, with fumbling kisses and needy fingers touching everywhere, playing Brendon like a song and how Ryan loved that song more than anything. 

Ryan flinched and took a drag, holding his breath too long and letting the smoke burn his throat. He found himself struggling to breath properly and turned away from the window, taking in shallow gasps as Brendon's smile filled his vision and the sounds of his pleasure echoed in his ears, like blood rushing and a beating heart. He couldn’t breath at all, a panic attack welling in the pit of his gut as he failed to escape the memories. At a loss of how else to save himself, he took the blunt and pressed the burning tip against his skin, leaving it there to scald and scar. After finally pulling the stub from his skin, he found he could breath again. 

. . .

Neither Dan nor Zoe spoke to him the next day. 

Ryan just stared out the window, smoking and picking at the burn on his arm. 

He watched three vamps burn alive and willing that day. 

. . .

It was the second day of silence that it happened. 

Ryan hadn't spoken a word to anyone, not even himself, in almost forty eight hours. His throat was weak and his mouth felt gummy and numb and swallowing gave little relief. He didn't drink any water because that would invite Zoe to scream at him about how wasteful he was. 

He watched two figures struggle outside, but they quickly went back into the shadows when rays of light began to slip through the pollution and created spots on the ground, the streets resembling a painting of white ink on black paper. The sunlight struck Ryan as beautiful and he smiled despite his sombre mood, taking a long drag from yet another blunt and picking at the burn on his arm, not letting it heal. 

It was in the late hours of the day that a single figure walked slowly into Ryan's line of sight. A stout, skinny figure. He knew it was a vampire from the way it's clear skin began to burn almost instantly and very visibly, bright, angry patches of burns against pale skin. 

As Ryan watched the vampire seemingly step into the light and willingly die peacefully, he was reminded of something. He was reminded of Brendon tearing off his shirt and running for the beach, the first time he'd ever been to LA and out of Vegas in years. He remembered how he'd stared for an inappropriately long amount of time at Brendon's young and soft body, the curves of his arms and the love handles over his jeans. Ryan remembered staring for as long as he could, burning Brendon's body into his mind permanently, a body he would soon memorize in expansive and intimate detail only weeks later. 

As Ryan stared at the vampire's body and remembered Brendon's body, he realized they were the same.  

Fear laced through Ryan's heart faster than a bullet cuts the air. He was out the door and scaling the ruined steps before he was even aware of the fact that he'd left his blunt and his sickle and his knife behind. He was defenseless and about to approach a starving vampire that would undoubtably drain him in seconds. But then again, Ryan knew Brendon would only ever hurt him with words, not his hands or teeth. 

Ryan was in the streets in seconds, calling out Brendon's name with reckless abandon, running towards the figure that he was more and more sure was Brendon as the yards turned into feet. He could see the piano and homage to Sinatra on the forearm of the vampire, the forearm of Brendon. 

Brendon froze, going completely still, but he was still in the meager light of the setting sun. His skin was still boiling and burning and Ryan could smell his dying flesh. It stung his eyes and throat and the tears gathering against the smell made it hard to see. But he kept running, stumbling over rubble and concrete before he finally reached Brendon's side. 

Ryan wasn't afraid of Brendon. He took Brendon by the upper arm and practically dragged the stunned man into the shadows of a fallen apartment complex and threw him to the floor, suddenly very angry. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Ryan demanded, voicing edging towards hysterical. It really was Brendon, clear as day and right before Ryan's eyes. He was still every bit as beautiful as he'd been before, his eyes bring the only difference. Instead of their previous heady and dark brown, they were now a bright hazel, burning with the poison in Brendon's body that made him what he was. Brendon was gaping up at Ryan, disbelief and shock dancing across his features. 

"Ryan?" Brendon said softly, and Ryan could almost cry from how good it felt to hear and see Brendon's lips form his name again. Then Brendon took in an unnecessary breath and the bright hazel went black. Ryan would have thought his pupils had blown out in the face of sexual desire, but he knew better. Ryan didn't feel threatened. If a vampire was to kill him, he'd be happy to die with Brendon's mouth on his body again. 

"Ryan," Brendon said again, though his voice has darkened with his expression and eyes. He sat up slowly, though didn’t stand, leering at Ryan like he was prey. Then Ryan realized that Brendon was probably starving and he still had drugs in his blood. It almost wasn't fair to stop Brendon from dying if he wasn't going to surrender to Brendon's animalistic thirst. 

Ryan dropped to his knees, too far gone to listen to his common sense. He took Brendon's wrist and felt the cold, burned flesh and muscle quiver under his touch. Ryan brought Brendon's hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat as Ryan tilted his head and barred his neck for Brendon to take. And when Brendon lurched forward and sunk his teeth into Ryan's skin, it was almost a religious experience. He gasped raggedly as something warm slid through his body from where he could feel Brendon's teeth piercing his skin. It hurt, it really fucking hurt. Tears pricked at his eyes and Ryan almost pushed him away, but his arms shot out to keep Brendon up when the man stumbled and he could feel his bones jutting from flesh, skeletal and starved. So he steeled his jaw and kept Brendon from swaying as he fed like a starved man stumbling upon a sacrifice for the gods. 

Though he couldn't hear much over the blood rushing in his head, Ryan was still aware enough to hear just the tiniest scuttle of feet on the ground, above and all around them. Alarms went off in his head even with the addictive pain and self gratification of keeping Brendon alive. It hit him that his blood was out in the open, staining the air and acting as a siren for other vampires around. Brendon was drinking sloppily and Ryan knew they only had seconds before possibly hundred of starving vampires would be upon them, fighting for a taste of Ryan's blood and tearing Brendon apart if he got in the way.

"Brendon," he gasped urgently, struggling to push him away, but Brendon didn't respond and kept taking Ryan's blood in huge gulps. Ryan was beginning to feeling lightheaded and dizzy. He scrabbled at Brendon's back as he saw shadows start to move, calling out Brendon's name over and over again, getting louder as he heard the monsters get closer. 

Ryan winced and did the only thing he could think off. He held onto Brendon's shoulders and drove his knee into the other's stomach.

Brendon tore himself off Ryan's neck, coughing and gagging wretchedly, clutching his stomach and staring up at Ryan with piercing eyes. Ryan didn't even pause to apologize-- he grabbed Brendon's hand and ran as fast as he could, as far as he could from the apartment, heading for the nearest pillar of light he saw. Upon reaching it, he tossed Brendon to the ground, and Brendon cried out in pain while looking up at Ryan with betrayal written across his expression. Ryan threw his body over Brendon's and the man curled up into the smallest ball he could manage, using Ryan as the shield from the sunlight that Ryan had intended to be. Ryan looked up once he knew Brendon wouldn't be hurt by the light and tensed. 

There were more of them than Ryan could count. People just standing around the light with sneers on their faces and starving eyes. Ryan held onto Brendon tighter and brought his free hand up to the puncture wounds on his neck, covering them, as if that would make the vampires go away. Ryan knew they wouldn't. They'd stay here, surrounding Ryan until nightfall. Then, without the sun to keep them at bay, the monsters would tear Ryan apart and drain him. Not unless a miracle happened. 

Just as Ryan came to terms with his death, one of the vampires shrieked, writhed and dropped to the ground. The other monsters all stared at the fallen figure. Then another screamed, long and loud, and dropped to the floor, dead. Then two more and all the vampires began to grow nervous. They chattered and whispered among one another, slowly slinking away from Ryan and Brendon and heading back into the shadows. Then a fifth vampire died screaming and the monsters fled, there in an instant and gone in a flash. 

Ryan gaped, wondering how he'd gotten this lucky so many times in a row. 

"Are they gone?" 

Ryan looked down to Brendon, who’d asked the question and who was also staring up at Ryan with wide, scared eyes. It hit Ryan hard that even though Brendon was one of these freaks, he was still Brendon. Ryan didn't bother to hide the smile that came to his lips. 

"Jesus Christ, Ryan," Dan's voice said, loud and clear in the aftermath. "Why don't you try just a little harder to get yourself killed?"

Ryan twisted his spine to see Dan, meaning to address and even thank him. But that exposed Brendon to the tiniest ray of light on his arm. As Brendon hissed and flinched away from the light, Dan brought up his crossbow with deadly seriousness washing over his expression. "Move," he told Ryan coldly, because he thankfully couldn't get a clear shot with Ryan in the way. Ryan tightened his jaw and refused with a shake of his head. "Fucking move, Ryan," Dan bit out. 

Ryan finalized his decision to not move by covering Brendon completely with his body, essentially giving Dan a choice-- either kill Ryan to kill Brendon or don't shoot at all. Dan sneered and lowered the crossbow.

"What the fuck is this?" Dan demanded, sneering and showing his teeth, glaring at the figure he hadn't recognized beneath Ryan. 

"Later," Ryan told him firmly before moving carefully to his feet and keeping Brendon close to his body to keep him out of the light. Brendon was trembling and huddled in on himself as Ryan brought Brendon with him as he and Dan moved to a storage complex down the road. 

. . .

"Why didn't we go back home?" Dan demanded once they were as safe as they could be in an administrator's office on the second floor of the warehouse. "It was closer and we have things to defend ourselves with there."

"Do you not see my neck?" Ryan snapped, gesturing to the blood. He'd have drawn vamps for miles if this wound had kept bleeding, even though it hadn't. Ryan hadn't wanted to risk it, though, didn't want to have Zoe's death on his head along with Dan's and his own. But Brendon thankfully hadn't been so starved that his body stopped creating the venom that closed the wounds of their victims. It wasn't a move to protect the victim so much as it was to keep blood from being wasted. 

Dan sighed. "Okay," he relented. "But what's with the vamp? We don't save these things, Ryan, we kill them."

"You don't recognize him?" Ryan asked softly, casting his eyes to Brendon, who was huddled in a corner between a decrepit desk and the wall. 

Dan stared for a long moment and Ryan could pinpoint the exact second Dan saw who this was. 

"Brendon Urie," he breathed, the name slipping out of him like he was being socked in the gut. "Holy shit, Ryan, that's... That's Brendon Urie." Dan let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "That's Brendon Urie," he repeated, as if saying it over and over again would make the realization a bit easier to stomach. 

Ryan just waited for him to get over it and listen. 

"Brendon Urie," Dan said for what felt like the millionth time. "... He bit you?"

"I let him bite me," Ryan clarified. "He was starving. Still is."

Dan scoffed, disbelieving. "And what, you're gonna let him continue to feed from you and raise him back to good health? You're just gonna let this leech suck you dry all because of some stupid thing that happened years ago in a completely different world?"

Ryan nodded, having decided this ages ago. "Sounds about right."

Dan was silent for a long moment. Then he threw his hands into the air with a helpless expression and didn't say another word. Ryan took this as a sign of surrender and went to sit cautiously and carefully in front of the cowering Brendon. "He's not gonna hurt you," Ryan told him softly. "I won't let him."

Brendon looked up at him, and even though his eyes were the colour of a monster's, Brendon still managed to look as scared and innocent as a small child trapped in a situation they just couldn't understand. Ryan's heart went out to him and he welcomed the pain. It was the first time he'd felt anything through the apathy. Honestly, Ryan was beginning to think Brendon was the only person who could even make him feel anymore. 

"You're safe, Brendon," he assured Brendon softly. "Are you hungry?" It seemed important and even though Brendon's eyes no longer went dark every time Ryan got close, he didn't want to assume. He knew humans experienced a loss of appetite when faced with extreme adrenaline during peril; maybe vampires were the same. 

Brendon shook his head at first, but then aborted the gesture and nodded almost fearfully. Ryan smiled gently, trying to put him at ease. "Can you do it cleaner this time?" he asked softly. "So we don't attract any others to us?"

Brendon's eyes went even wider. "I don't wanna drink from you again..."

Ryan almost became offended, but then he remembered his defensiveness was one of the things that damned them before the world ended. So he bit his lip and tried to think clearly. "Why not?"

"I already took a lot," Brendon responded weakly. 

Ryan let out an almost relieved breath, glad that he hadn't jumped to conclusions, because that was a very reasonable (and surprisingly humane) reason for Brendon to not want to drink from him again. "I'm fine," Ryan assured him softly. "Really, I am. No dizziness or nausea or anything, I'm fine. You can drink from me again as long as you keep it clean and don't waste any. You're starving, Brendon. It's okay."

He sighed as Brendon shook his head vehemently, curling his knees even closer to his chest. Ryan opened his mouth to say something, or more likely berate Brendon for being so stupid when he barely heard him whisper, "I don't drink from humans." 

Ryan froze. "What do you drink if you don't drink human blood?" he asked with a tone of honest and almost clinical curiosity. Even Dan seemed much more interested, going so far as to step closer and tilt his head like that would somehow help him hear thins more clearly. Brendon seemed to flinch away from their curious eyes, gnawing on his lower lip and piercing his lip with one of his fangs, the sickly red blood of a living corpse trailing down his chin. Ryan reflexively reached out and wiped off the blood with his finger. He almost stopped halfway through the movement when he realized what he was doing, and Brendon was looking at him like he was terrified Ryan was going to suddenly decide to hit him. So Ryan continued the gesture and cleaned the smear of blood a second time with his thumb to show Brendon he meant to do it, for good measure. 

"I-I drink from animals," he stuttered. "Not in the beginning. When I got turned, I was all for human blood, but..." Brendon's eyes glazed over with what could only be a memory. "... But when something happened, I stopped. It was kinda stupid cause nothing really keeps us alive like human blood, but I couldn't do it again. So I'd drink from dogs and cats and just strays in general." He took in a slow, unnecessary breath. "Y-your blood is the first human blood I've had for almost two years." 

Ryan smirked and shot Dan a proud look. "He's not a monster," he told Dan almost haughtily. Dan arched a brow. 

"So vamps aren't monsters?" Dan shot back snidely. "You just believe whatever backs up the argument, don't you?"

"The monsters are the people who don't care for human life," Ryan elaborated with a dead panned voice. "The monsters are the ones that kill innocent people and never feel regret. Which means humans can be monsters just as much as vampires."

Dan went silent. 

Ryan didn't even bother to celebrate shutting Dan up like he usually would. Instead, he turned back to Brendon with a question burning a hole in his throat. "Why are you starving if you don't feed on humans?"

Brendon winced. "... A lot of others don't like me," he whispered. "They kill animals they come across so others like me can't feed. They think we're weak. That we should die with them because we're the same." He looked down at the ground, grimacing. "They usually kill us if they catch us."

"So why were you trying to kill yourself?" Ryan asked in an even softer, voice. 

"You'd want to die to if you lived like I do," Brendon whispered. "It's cold and broken. I lost Spencer."

Ryan was startled. "You... You lost Spencer?"

Brendon nodded. "He turned me in the beginning. And he and I stopped hunting humans together. But then they killed him and I've never been so fucking alone..." 

Ryan didn't know what to do with the information he'd been given. Spencer, someone he'd known almost all his life, someone who was the closest thing to family that he'd ever had, and someone he loved dearly enough to die for, had been dead for a while. Ryan felt like he should've known, like there should have been a horrible pang in his heart or a restart like his brain had been interrupted and thrown off. He felt like his body should've known, somehow. But it hadn't. 

Ryan let out a long, slow breath and tried not to freak out on Brendon. "You're not alone," he whispered once he'd gotten his grip again, though it was more than likely temporary. "You're not. I'm here with you and I’m not sending you away."

Brendon didn't look very comforted by his words. "I can't do that," he protested sadly. 

"And why not?" Ryan shot back, still trying to keep a lid on his temper. "I need to know why so I can tell you why you're wrong."

Brendon frowned, obviously put off by Ryan's words. "I'm a monster? No, stop," he interrupted Ryan when he opened his mouth to protest. "I don't care what you think, I need to drink blood to survive. That's some grade A monster shit. And it's dangerous to have me around you guys. Just because I live off animal blood doesn't mean human blood doesn't tempt me like nothing else."

"Drink from me," Ryan said again. "I really don't mind being a donor. And it's probably healthier for you and I can kill anything that comes for you."

Brendon was speechless. "... Why do you want to help me?" he asked in a small voice. "Don't you hate me? Don't we hate each other?"

"I forgave you a long time ago," Ryan explained softly. "You're the one who couldn't forgive me."

Brendon was truly speechless this time. He bowed is head, looking almost subdued, and the regret and guilt was palpable. He didn't apologize, just avoided Ryan's eyes like a plague and stared at the dust in the floor with a dejected expression. Ryan sighed. 

"I mean it, Brendon. I forgive you," he reiterated. "Which means I'm not mad that you didn't forgive me. It's fine, really. Shit went down badly and it was just as much my fault as it was yours. We have to be adults and survive this, okay? And if surviving means pretending the past never happened, then so be it." He heard Dan scoff behind him and knew Dan was laughing at Ryan's words because Ryan had never been able to forget Brendon. But Ryan ignored him and kept his eyes on Brendon. 

"I didn't survive," Brendon protested weakly. "I'm not human anymore."

"Just because you're a vampire doesn't mean you can't survive," Ryan sighed. "It's different, yeah, but it's also the same. You're fighting to stay alive just like we are." 

Brendon sighed. "... Why do you even want me around, Ry?"

Ryan froze for a split second, knowing he couldn't tell Brendon the truth. He cleared his throat to by himself time and shrugged, before rambling what would hopefully be an adequate reason. "You and I became friends for a reason," he said. "And then we became more. So there was the fallout, but we had a height to fall from in the first place because we were good together, you know? And there are so few people left alive who I can trust. I wanna trust you too. I want to have someone I was close to by my side." He left the unspoken words of how Dan and Zoe were no longer there for him hang in the air. "Can I please just have that again? With you?"

Brendon looked very, very tired. His body spoke of exhaustion and deprivation of rest and safety and his golden eyes were flat. Brendon sighed before shrugging, then giving a nod. "Okay," he told Ryan softly. "I'll stay with you. As long as it's safe."

"I'm really good at killing these things," Ryan assured him. "So is Dan. Zoe, not so much anymore, but Dan and I can handle it, trust me."

"I didn't say that I was the one in danger," and Brendon sent him a pointed look to try and get his meaning across and into Ryan's thick, stubborn head. But Ryan frowned and denied what Brendon was saying with a firm shake of his head and a hand on Brendon's knee. 

"I know you won't hurt me," he told him firmly. "I'm not afraid."

Brendon snorted, the sound coming out cynical. "You're stupid not to be afraid, Ryan."

"Fuck being stupid," he spat back. "And fuck what you think. I'm taking you home with us and you're staying with us, and that's fucking final. No excuses. And if Zoe or Dan kicks you out, then I'm going with you. There's not much left for me to live for so now that I've found something, there's no way in hell that I'm letting it slip out of my fingers."

Brendon stared at him with a pained expression. "Okay," he relented in a whisper. "Okay."

. . .

Zoe was fucking pissed. 

"He's the reason you've been trying to fucking kill yourself!" she practically shrieked. "He's the reason you do all those stupid things and the reason you freaking hate yourself! It's all his fucking fault and you're just going to let him stay with us and keep him alive? Are you fucking crazy?!"

"Does it matter if I am?" Ryan sighed, feeling worked out from all the screaming. The first time he'd talked to Zoe in days and already she was chewing him out. "It's Brendon, Zoe. You know what he means to me. And he's not a monster like the others, he knows it's wrong to kill for blood so he went to animals. Now that he's with me, he can just feed from me."

"All the moral and ethical issues with that aside," Dan cut in. "What if he's lying?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Brendon is an awful liar. I would know if he was trying to pull one over on me, trust me. It's the truth. You can tell just by looking at him."

"I think he looks just like all the other starving vampires," Dan argued. 

"No he doesn't," Ryan snapped. "He looks like Brendon and he looks scared and tired and hungry."

"Maybe that's why you can't do it," the taller man thought aloud. "Maybe your brain just sees Brendon and only the Brendon you knew back then. And you so desperately want him back in your life that you're ignoring all the signs that he can and will kill you." 

Ryan's hand clenched into a fist at his side. "I'm not going to punch you," he grit out through clenched teeth. "I'm not. But if you're smart, you'll stop saying your usual stupid shit so I won't be tempted."

Dan rolled his eyes. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Just because you're not afraid of me doesn't mean I can't hurt you."

Dan scowled. He moved to Zoe's side and pulled her to the back room with him. It was Dan's way of saying that he was fucking done with Ryan in every way. Ryan sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes, wishing that the end of the world had meant he'd never have to fight his friends ever again. 

"Brendon?" he called out softly. Dan had insisted that Brendon wait outside and hide in the rubble while they all talked. He knew Brendon could hear him. But there was no answering call, nor the sound of rocks being dislodged. He frowned and went outside without a thought, doubt creeping into his mind that Brendon had actually listened to him and stayed. "Brendon!"

"Ryan."

Ryan jumped almost a foot on the air before whipping around on his heel. He looked up and saw Brendon, perched on the edge of a window, looking down at him with hollow eyes.  

"You didn't leave," Ryan said aloud, knowing his relief would be audible in his voice. Brendon frowned and his brow knit together in what was probably confusion and a silent question. "I was scared you'd run off," Ryan explained with a wry smile. "Like, I don't know. Just get up and leave because you were feeling self deprecated and shit. I'm just glad you didn't. I want you to stay."

"The other two don't," Brendon huffed. Ryan shrugged. 

"They're bitter and think they know everything about me," he said. "And everything about you. But they barely know shit yet the act like they do. Kinda like overbearing parents."

“Parents who scream at you?"

Ryan shrugged again. "Dysfunctional is the new black, I guess. Besides, you knew my dad. I’ve never had a parent that hasn’t screamed.”

Brendon stared at him for a long moment before moving and jumping off the ledge gracefully and landing next to Ryan without so much as a stumble. Ryan blinked, a bit blindsided by the movement and how fast it was, but then smiled easily at him. "Wanna come inside?" he asked in a gentle voice. He didn't know why he was acting so sensitive to Brendon's every expression and catering to him, but it probably had something to do with how starved Brendon looked. "You should feed," he blurted out without a second thought. 

Brendon flinched away and shook his head. "Already took too much," he said in a voice full of self loathing, looking at something on Ryan's neck. Ryan frowned and lifted his hand, touching the skin and realizing the puncture wounds were raised and felt almost flayed. 

"Huh," Ryan whispered, a bit confused because most bites healed with only slight discolorations of the skin to testify to the bite. But these...

"I was too violent," Brendon said, horror haunting his eyes. "I didn't prep you and I didn't use my venom like I should have. Those'll never go away..." He took in a shaky, unnecessary breath. "I'm so sorry..."

Ryan waved him off. "It doesn't hurt," he told Brendon with a hopefully reassuring smile. "Really, it doesn't. And honestly, the bite wasn't as bad as it could have been. I've had much more violent vamps tear into me, okay? You were starving and I was there, and I don't blame you for being a bit careless. I'm happy to help you feed again, even if it's just to keep you safe from having to go outside and safe from starving. And I'll have a friend around, so it's a win-win situation for both of us.”

"How can you be okay with this?" Brendon asked in a weak voice that caught Ryan off guard. 

"... I don't know," he replied with a helpless shrug. "I just know that I am. And that I wanna do this for you."

He sighed. "It's not a good idea, Ryan."

"Nothing these days ever is."

. . .

Brendon handled Zoe's harsh eyes and even harsher words like an adult; he took them without complaint or rebuttal and Ryan was somewhat impressed. Only somewhat, because he missed Brendon's spitfire attitude and no-bullshit business. He missed the Brendon that didn't put up with anyone's shit. He just kinda missed the Brendon that wasn't this submissive, shaken, shadow of a man. He missed Brendon. 

"You need it," Ryan insisted softly, having cornered Brendon, quite literally. Brendon's jaw was stiff and he was looking anywhere but Ryan and the slim wrist he was being offered. "Brendon," Ryan said softly. "Please. I didn't save you just to watch you die slowly. I'm here to help you, so let me do it and just drink."

"It's not as easy as you think," Brendon shot back, his voice raspy and weak. "I don't fucking drink from humans, Ryan. I didn't for nearly two years and it's not that easy to start doing it again."

Ryan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll have even less control," he spat. "I can't guarantee that I won't drain you the second I taste it. It's bad enough it's human, but with all the fucking drugs you do? That's a fucking aphrodisiac or some bullshit. Which reminds me, since when the fuck was marijuana addictive and why the fuck do you still smoke that shit? It's not safe, Ryan."

Ryan scowled. "Drink my blood or I'll hurt you."

Brendon flinched, eyes going dark with either panic or anger or some intense emotion Ryan couldn't name. He knew it was low to actually physically threaten Brendon, but it was his last resort. Brendon would starve without this and Ryan couldn't watch him die, no matter the circumstances. 

He was relieved when Brendon let out this sound that wasn't a sigh, but wasn't really anything else, and moved forward slowly. Ryan knew they had to be careful and he had to keep his heartbeat down so the bite would be less messy and there wouldn't be any vamps catching the scent and hunting for them. He knew Brendon had to be just as calm to control his hunger and he knew that this was really a fucking stupid and dangerous thing to do, to feed a vamp and just hope that they don't fuck up and get themselves killed. 

Ryan realized he was backing up as Brendon approached only because his back had suddenly hit the wall. He let out a tiny noise of surprise, but kept watching Brendon, who was staring at him intently. Their eyes locked and Ryan knew he wouldn't be able to break their gazes until Brendon did. 

"You okay?" Brendon asked in a soft, low voice. "We can stop. Just say the word, and I'll stop."

Ryan shook his head, then went the extra mile. He tilted his head to the side and pulled down the collar of his shirt, exposing his skin and the scar from before. "Go for it," he encouraged in a whisper. 

Brendon nodded shortly and placed a hand on the other side of Ryan's neck. "Don't struggle," he whispered back. 

Ryan nodded stiffly and leaned back against the wall, really wishing he could close his eyes and wait for the bite like a shot with visional ignorance. But he was practically hypnotized by the growing hunger in Brendon's darkening eyes and Jesus Christ, Ryan had forgotten to take into account how intimate something like this could be. Then he felt Brendon's skin practically against his, the hairs standing up on his neck, and then the piercing sharpness of teeth sinking into his skin, followed by a blast of numbness that was almost pleasurable as Brendon injected him with the venom and fed simultaneously. 

Ryan moaned softly at the feeling of nothing that filled him, so much better than the high he always chased. It felt like every worry and every stressor was being bled out of him. Ryan shuddered and clung to Brendon's shoulder, pulling him closer in his desire to feel more of this nothing. Brendon made a soft noise that vibrated through Ryan's body. He let out a soft noise of his own for a reason he couldn't pinpoint and tried in vain to pull Brendon even closer, push his fangs deeper into Ryan's skin.   

Brendon pulled away with wild eyes that gleamed red and practically growled at Ryan, though it wasn't threatening in the slightest. Ryan smiled breathlessly and shrugged, trying to go for nonchalant. It wasn't very successful and he knew that if someone were to walk in without any context, the expression on Ryan's face would've been mistaken for sexual pleasure.

Brendon's own growl brought a frown to his face and he shook his head, expression becoming more worried than angry, thank god. "What is wrong with you?"

Ryan laughed. 

. . .

It was hard, really, to stay sane out here.

"We're worried about you," Dan said softly, after having cornered Ryan between the window and the wall. "You're pale. You're not eating enough to keep up with how much blood Brendon's takes. And it's not even him, I've seen it. You just threaten to slice your skin open if he doesn't drink. You threaten him with your suicide, Ryan. If the world were still in order, I'd be calling a mental health facility and see about shipping you off!”

“Good thing the world is broken, then,” Ryan responded simply. “Now I can actually practice freedom of choice. What kind of friend forces the other friend to do something just because the first friend doesn’t like the way the other friend is now? You don’t like me now and you’re so fucking selfish you want to force me to change.”

“That’s not it at all,” Dan sighed.

“But it is,” Ryan sneered. “Fuck off, Dan. I’m not some head case or trauma patient. I’m fucking coping better than you and Zoe ever could. I won’t change because you’re not happy with me anymore.” 

“We’re not trying to change you.” Dan ran a hand through his hair, watching Ryan for a short moment. “Ry, we’re scared for you. For this entire hell, you’ve been blazing up to forget something or someone, probably Brendon. You nearly killed yourself time and time again in your attempt to forget whoever and now he’s here. Brendon’s here, Ryan, and now you’re killing yourself by his hands. Or mouth or something. You’re trying to self destruct.”

“You have no idea what it was like,” Ryan scowled. “Going through this terrified, out of your mind, that the man you loved didn’t make it. Even though I lost him years and should be well over him and what I felt, I can’t and I’m not.”

“You’re killing yourself, Ry,” he sighed.

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be happy to see me die at this point,” Ryan scoffed.

Dan went quiet.

Ryan shook his head and made to leave, saying, “don’t live vicariously through me. All that’ll do is shatter you.”

“Well shattered mustn’t be that bad, because you’re still fucking alive!”

Ryan ignored him and kept going.

. . .

“You know I missed you, right?”

Ryan looked up from the millionth joint he was rolling and frowned at Brendon. “When, exactly, are we talking about? Did you miss me when you were eight years old and you thought there were monsters in your closet, or did you miss me this morning when I went to take a shit?”

“Fuck you,” Brendon growled. “I mean when you left. In 2008. I missed you.”

He scoffed and sat up, setting the joint aside in favor of this more pressing matter. “Saw very little evidence of that, B. Especially when you ignored my every word.”

“Don’t call me B,” Brendon snapped.

Ryan flinched. Then whispered, “I missed you too.”

Brendon glanced up, one brow raised in what Ryan recognized as skepticism. “I did, “ he insisted. “I thought of calling you every day. I did every other week, but you ignored me, on all accounts. Literally. Messaging, email, twitter, whatever the fuck you wanna use. You were pretending I’d never existed.” Ryan paused, thinking about how to word his next sentence. “… The way you pretended made me wish I didn’t exist in the first place.”

Brendon grimaced. “Doesn’t that seem a bit dramatic?”

“Doesn’t it seem cruel to ignore someone you were intimate with for years?” Ryan shot back, though his tone was empty instead of vindictive. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see how bad I got with the drugs and the drinking.”

“What, you became an alcoholic?” Brendon asked snidely. “Like father, like son, I guess.”

That shut Ryan up. 

And shut him down.

He dropped the joint to the floor and stared up at Brendon with nothing in his eyes. Ryan just stared and stared, not saying a word and not giving anything away. Brendon grimaced and shifted uncomfortably on his feet, knowing he had crossed a line. 

“I’m sorry,” Brendon said after a moment. “I shouldn’t… I-I knew better than to say that.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan said hollowly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Brendon ran a hand through his hair before moving to crouch, then sit on the floor in front of Ryan. He wrung his fingers together, staring at the patch of sunlight that was in the far corner of the room that came from the setting sun. It had been a light day, but Ryan hadn’t stepped a foot outdoors like he usually would.

“We should talk, Ryan,” Brendon finally said. “About everything. Get it all out, shoot the elephant in the room with extreme prejudice.” He glanced up. “Think you’d be willing to do that?”

“Are you going to utilize every weakness of mine as a weapon?” Ryan asked. He wanted to know if he’d find it necessary to defend himself in this open heart surgery of a conversation with the ever resentful Brendon Urie.

The other man sighed and looked away. “Hopefully not,” he said. “I’m not… I never handled talking about you well. I’m sure you know that.”

“You called me a faggot in front of a fan,” Ryan reminded him. “No matter what happened, no matter how hard of a break up it was, I’d never call you that. I’d never attack you, especially in front of a fan.”

“I know,” Brendon said softly. “I was, I was wrong, Ryan. I shouldn’t have said that about you to the fan. To anyone, really.”

Ryan just nodded.

“And I’m thinking it’s high time I get with the program you’ve already memorized and fix this,” Brendon continued. “It’s long overdue. You deserved closure years ago and I kept it from you because of my pride and my inability to just, like, sit down and apologize and listen to you do the same. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Ryan whispered. He sighed and sat up straight, finally looking to Brendon with something other than vacancy in his eyes. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Everything,” Brendon said. “Everything that tore us apart.”

“Even the things we don’t want to believe?”

Brendon paused. “… Like what, Ryan?”

“Like how I was still in love with you, even if you don’t believe it.”

The other man was silent for a long moment. “Actions speak volumes louder than words, Ry. Leaving the band isn’t exactly a declaration of love.”

“I left so you could be happy,” Ryan said quietly, subdued. “If I’d left for selfish reasons, I would’ve taken the whole band with me. I would’ve taken Spencer and the label and the rights to my songs. I would’ve kept what was mine and forced you to go on your own. If I’d left selfishly, you’d have had nothing left.” He looked past Brendon, staring at the wall. “You weren’t happy with the music I was writing. I couldn’t write like the first album because I was happy. You wanted music more like the first album. I couldn’t do that anymore and I was making you sing words you weren’t exactly eager to sing. I was writing music you didn’t like. I didn’t know how to change myself so I left so I would stop making you unhappy. Because anything that makes you unhappy is not worth it.”

“So you didn’t stop and think that maybe not having you around would make me just as unhappy?” Brendon as a bit incredulously. “Jesus, Ryan, I was a mess! I wasn’t happy without you! Not for a really long time.”

“You hated me so quickly after I left,” Ryan said. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You knew me!” Brendon said. “Better than anyone else! You should’ve known that I wasn’t wanting you gone! That I wasn’t being anything but stupid! I was throwing a fit, Ryan, not wanting you to just leave me behind forever!”

Ryan flinched from the noise. “It’s not safe to yell…”

“You’ve never cared about safe,” Brendon sneered. Ryan knew he wasn’t wrong. “You just cared about getting high and killing things. Jesus, Ryan, you’re a fucking addict and a monster!”

“A monster?” Ryan repeated. “Really? Like, like those things? That steal people and drain them? That suck their blood and watch them die? Like you say you are?”

“Fuck you!” Brendon shouted, eyes alight with blood red veins.

Ryan just nodded, suddenly too tired to argue.

“Fuck you, Ross!” Brendon kept shouting. “You don’t know the hell I’ve been living in! All these fucking years as one of them! You don’t know the shit I’ve done or the shit I’ve seen! You don’t know the first thing about what I’ve been through so you can just go fuck yourself! Get high and go out there and die for all I fucking care! Just go fucking kill yourself, Fuck you!”

Ryan sat back and took it because Brendon was right, and every single word out of his mouth was the truth.

. . .

Ryan woke up the next morning in his familiar corner to find Zoe and Dan were gone.

“They left last night,” Brendon said stiffly. “Didn’t care how dangerous it was. You won’t find them. They don’t want you to find them.”

Ryan had never felt so alone.

. . .

“I turned it into a fight,” Brendon gasped as he pulled from Ryan’s neck, red on his tongue being the only testament to what he’d just taken from Ryan. “I told you I was ready to talk and I turned it into a fucking fight and I’m sorry.”

Ryan relaxed back against the wall and nodded, knowing Brendon needed to get some shit out before he was ready to go for it again. The apartment was emptier than Ryan had thought possible and he was desperate to hear someone else’s voice fill the air. Ryan forced his eyes open against the haze in his mind and noticed that Brendon’s face looked fuller, less starved.

“I wanna try again,” Brendon was saying. “Can we? Do you trust me to not fuck it up again? I can’t keep hurting you like this, Ryan, I-I gotta work this out.”

Ryan just nodded again, knowing he was more than willing to let Brendon hurt him as many times as he needed.

. . .

“So you still loved me,” Brendon said. “Even after leaving. You loved me in your special Ryan Ross way.”

“Something like that,” he sighed.

Brendon shrugged. “And, in your special Ryan Ross way, you, like, were doing it for me? Instead of sitting down and trying to talk to me, you just took the reigns and left because you thought that was the best action you could take. Not only ending our relationship, but distancing yourself from the band, which you claimed was one of the best things to ever happen to you.”

Ryan was paused for a moment. “Love is blinding,” was all he could say. “You don’t see any option but the one you want.”

“You wanted to leave me and the band?”

“No.” Ryan sighed again. “I wanted you happy. And I thought I was the reason you weren’t happy.”

“But it was just the music, Ry,” Brendon explained. “The music was making me unhappy.”

Ryan smiled wretchedly. “The music was me, Brendon.”

They were both quiet after that, knowing nothing more could be said to redeem the conversation.

Ryan ended up going to bed far earlier than he ever had. He was proud of himself because he hadn’t smoked the whole day.

. . .

Ryan also hated himself because the feeding was starting to be pleasurable. 

He would look forward to Brendon’s hunger, to the way Brendon would press his body against Ryan’s, the way Brendon would breath against his skin just because Brendon wanted to breath. Ryan loved the numbness that spread in the beginning. But as Brendon bit him more and more in the same spot, the numbness became less prominent in the face of pleasure, almost like the penetration of his fangs were akin to the penetration of sex.

Ryan knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. The love he’d harbored for years gave way to nostalgic memories of their nights together and Ryan found himself waking aroused more often than not. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back much longer, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight the animalistic desire for Brendon in his head.

And sometimes, if Ryan closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he’d hear something like a moan coming from Brendon over the rushing of the blood in Ryan’s ears. He knew Brendon enjoyed the feeding as well. He just didn’t know to what extent.

But god, did he want them to be real again.

. . .

Ryan shuddered in Brendon’s arms as he felt the blood leave his body. His nerves were alight and thrumming. Ryan had to be careful— he was hard in his jeans and he didn’t want Brendon to feel it. All pain was gone from the fangs and he had to stifle moans. He didn’t want Brendon to know what this was doing to him because he didn’t want Brendon to take this away.

He tore into his lower lip and it felt like he was going to start trembling from how had it was to control his body and his actions. Ryan could feel Brendon’s chest pressed against his, and was hyper aware of Brendon’s arms on his sides to keep him still and make sure the bite didn’t get fucked up or dislodged, so he wouldn’t waste any blood and expose them to the other monsters. 

Things were different with Zoe and Dan; things were calmer, more lax. Ryan didn’t feel hard pressed to pay attention to his tracks or the noise levels. It was just him and Brendon so he didn’t feel guilty about risky actions because Brendon would survive anything and Ryan would die like he deserved.

Suddenly Brendon’s fangs tugged at some vein or strain of muscle that triggered a flash of pleasure down Ryan’s spine. He cried out softly and rocked his hip forward into Brendon’s thigh. The delicious friction was enough to make Ryan lose himself and thrust again, and for a moment, he was back on the fucking tour bus, Brendon wildly humping his leg as quietly as he could in Ryan’s bunk, both of them desperate just to get off.

Then Ryan felt a horrible pain in his neck and Brendon was looking at him with venom in his eyes, snarling with a hand wrapped tight around Ryan’s neck. Ryan knew Brendon could snap his neck with the slightest flex of one finger. Ryan stared into Brendon’s red eyes and found himself hoping Brendon actually does it. Hoping Brendon actually breaks his neck, ending this dance, this fucking hell of watching the man he loves walk around him with these feelings of self-hatred and deprecation and disgust. He hoped Brendon killed him so his heart could stop hurting like this.

Then Brendon’s hand was gone and so was Brendon.

Ryan slid to the floor and stared past everything, wondering if he should just walk outside and do something like he’d watched countless vamps do before.

. . .

“You’re a fucking mess.”

Ryan blinked and looked around. He hadn’t moved, but it was pitch black out and in. He let out a slow breath, the first purposeful thing he’d done in what was probably hours. Ryan couldn’t see Brendon anywhere. He figured that was the idea.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Brendon said again in a low growl, out of sight. “What the fuck happened to you, Ross? Who the fuck broke that fucking stupid brain and spilled everything out? Who the fuck did this to you?”

“Why do you care?” Ryan asked, curious.

Brendon didn’t answer.

“I mean, you’re the one who kept us apart in the end,” Ryan continued. “You didn’t want to talk to me. Why do you care what happened to me while you were gone for what you’d planned to be for good?”

Brendon still didn’t answer. 

Ryan sighed. “I just wish I knew what you wanted from me,” he whispered to the dark. He didn’t even know if Brendon was still there, but he’d keep talking. “I know what I want from you and I know I’ll never have it again. I lost my chance and you found something more amazing than I could ever be. So I just want to know what you want from me or what you want me to do so I can give it or do it for you. Even if it’s slitting my wrists and letting those things tear me apart so you can go out there and be whatever you need to be without me.”

Brendon didn’t speak.

But Ryan knew he was there.

When cold lips touched Ryan’s, he knew they were Brendon’s. Ryan could recognize the creases and turns and the flesh anywhere. He’d spent too short of a time memorizing Brendon’s touch. He couldn’t forget it if he wanted to.

There was a brush in the wind, still air moving as Brendon left again.

Ryan stayed where he was, just in case Brendon came back.


End file.
